


This Exercise in Self Abuse

by romanticalgirl



Series: Crowded Room [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: The continuing adventures of asshole secretary Steve Rogers, and asshole boss, Bucky Barnes wherein Steve is stupid, Bucky learns what dating is, no one is jealous, things are blown up, and bones are broken.And there are absolutely no feelings. Nope. Nu-uh. Not a one. Shut up.





	This Exercise in Self Abuse

Bucky is apparently dating Diana Prince. They go to several events together and have dinner once or twice and they get along, so to the public, they’re definitely dating.

Bucky isn’t aware of it until he sees the paper folded next to his coffee mug. It’s open to the society pages, and there’s a picture of the two of them together with a caption “ _When will wedding bells ring for the Winter Soldier and his Princess?_ ”. He assumes it’s supposed to be a play on Diana’s last name, but he thinks it’s insulting either way.

There’s a neon green Post-it note next to the photo with _Congratulations!!_ written on it and an arrow pointing to the highlighted paragraph. He takes a sip of his coffee and starts to read, spraying his mouthful of coffee across the newsprint when he chokes.

“Saw the paper?” Steve asks from the doorway. “Do we need to go ring shopping? Please tell me your old-fashioned values mean you’ll be a part of this so I don’t have to figure out what to buy her all on my own. I supposed I could call Miss Potts. She’s got better taste than the both of us combined.”

Bucky grabs a dish towel and starts mopping up the coffee on the counter. He hopes the paper is destroyed. “We’ve been out six times.”

“Your point?”

“We barely know each other,” Bucky says, as if it matters.

“You look good together. Very good. I really think that’s all people care about. Either way though, she’s brought your approval numbers up. People seem to like it when you smile.”

“I don’t smile.”

“You do when you’re with her.” Steve looks down at his tablet, almost like he won’t look at Bucky. “You have a meeting with Agent Hill in a half hour.”

Bucky crumples the paper and tosses it in the recycling. “I’m not dating her.”

“The only thing about your private life that matters to me is if it overlaps with something I already have scheduled.” Steve goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. “You might want to get moving. I will absolutely throw you to the wolves when it comes to Agent Hill.”

“Aren’t employees supposed to be loyal to the people they work for?”

“One, I officially work for Tony. Two, you’re not nearly as scary as she is.”

“I’m the Winter Soldier.”

“So? I’ve seen you with bedhead. And even without it, you’re not nearly as scary as her. Go get dressed.” Steve glares at Bucky when he opens his mouth to respond. “Don’t argue with me.”

“I’m _your_ boss, you know.” Bucky glares right back, his arms crossed over his chest in defiance. “ _Not_ the other way around.”

“Fine. But I’m emailing her now to let her know if you‘re late it’s your own fault.”

Bucky puts his mug down on the counter a little harder than necessary. “Ugh. Fine. I hate you.”

Steve ignores him, consulting the tablet again. His smile does not bode well for Bucky. “And you’re having lunch with Ms. Prince.”

“Why?”

“Because according to the society pages _and_ the tabloids, you two are headed to the great state of matrimony.”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Why do I have a feeling that _somehow_ this is all your fault?”

Steve’s smile brightens and grows wider. “Why, Mr. Barnes, I have absolutely no idea.”

**

“I just have to grab something really quick. You didn’t have to come with me.”

“Are you kidding? This is Avengers Tower. I could meet an Avenger.”

“You most likely won’t.”

“But I _could_.”

Steve sighs and walks off the elevator, setting his hand over the biometric lock on Bucky’s door. It slides open silently, and Steve leads the way inside.

“This is so cool.”

Steve exhales quiet. “Why don’t you sit down? I just have to grab the file.”

“It’s fine. Take your time.”

Given the way Mark, his date – boyfriend? – is looking around, he has no intention of taking his time. He goes into the dining room to grab his laptop, booting it up so he can pull the file he needs. It’s almost done loading onto the thumb drive when there’s a shriek from the other side of the apartment.

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” Bucky sounds furious, and Steve rushes to find them. He follows the hallway back to Bucky’s room.

“Mark?” He squeaks.

Bucky’s holding him by the collar of his shirt and jacket, pinned to the wall and about a foot off the ground. He flicks a glance over to Steve and gives him a minute shake of his head to tell him not to interrupt.

Steve wants to ignore him, but given that the stranger just outside Bucky’s bedroom is Steve’s fault, he keeps his mouth shut.

“That a question?” Bucky growls.

“No. Mark.” He’s still squeaking. “It’s Mark.”

“Well, Mark.” Bucky’s muscles flex and he hefts him up higher on the wall. “You want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in my apartment?”

“Steve,” he chokes out.

Bucky steps closer, right in Mark’s face. “What about Steve?”

Something in Mark’s expression makes something inside Steve shrivel. Mark’s not his boyfriend. Mark’s using him for his job. He looks down at the ground, chest constricting as Mark responds. “He works for you.”

“I’m aware.”

“I knew he’d bring me here eventually.”

The sound of the plates of Bucky’s arm shifting is loud in the following silence. His voice is like a black mamba, slithering around Mark. “Oh?”

“Bucky.” The sound of his name feels weird. He’s not sure he remembers ever calling him that. His voice is flat, tired.

Bucky turns his head toward Steve and slowly lowers Mark to the ground. “You seem to have lost someone, Rogers.”

“Yeah. More than you know. Sorry. Come on, Mark.”

“Actually, FRIDAY, could you have Mark escorted out of the building? I’d like a word or two with Mr. Rogers.”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

Bucky grabs the back of Mark’s neck and steers him to the door. Two members of the Stark security team are getting out of the elevator when they get there, and Bucky none-too-gently shoves Mark into their company before shutting the door behind them.

Steve’s hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, and his shoulders are hunched. His bruises still hurt, but that’s not as much as what he’s feeling now. He meets Bucky’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Is there a reason you’re bringing boys to my apartment? I know for a fact that you have one of your own.”

“I had to get a file so I could finish typing up that report you asked me to get to Agent Hill. And you’re supposed to be out with Ms. Prince.”

“She had something come up. And it doesn’t sound any better that you brought him here when you thought my apartment would be empty. What exactly were you planning to do here?”

“I told you. Get the file. Then we were going to have dinner.”

Bucky exhales and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back against the door. “I hope you’re not expecting me to apologize for ruining your date.”

“Relationship. And I’m pretty sure what ruined it was him ignoring the rules I set and trying to get into my boss’s bedroom. Tell me he didn’t hit on you.”

“Oh, he did. Badly.”

“Right. Of course.” He looks down at his shoes or the floor, and he hates feeling small. Hates being in the wrong. “So, this is actually a fireable offense, I’m pretty sure. I guess I’m not getting a good reference, huh?”

“Is he the reason you left early that day?”

“We’re on that again?” Steve looks up at Bucky just to roll his eyes. “Again?” He shakes his head. “Why does it matter to you why I left early? You weren’t here.”

“Because you don’t do that. You have a ridiculous work ethic, and I don’t trust out of character behavior.”

“I’m allowed to have a life. I wasn’t aware I needed permission to have some time off.” Steve straightens, his look defiant now. “Am I fired, Mr. Barnes?”

“You are such a pain in my ass.” Steve just lifts an eyebrow in response and Bucky groans. “No. You’re not fired just because you have shitty taste in men.”

“That wasn’t the fireable part of what happened.”

“You trusted him to stay put. He didn’t. Not on you.”

“I brought him into your home without permission.”

Bucky goes over to the couch and sits down, propping his bare feet on the coffee table. “Do you _want_ me to fire you?”

“No, but…”

“Good. Mutual. Sit.”

“Excuse me?”

He points to the other couch. “Sit.”

Steve starts to say something, closes his mouth, and sits. Bucky grins widely, which causes Steve to narrow his eyes. “What?”

“It’s just so rare that you actually do what I say.”

Steve groans and rubs small circles on his temples. “My night went from decent to really shitty pretty quickly, so I’d really just rather go home.”

“You were going to get some food, right? So you’re hungry?”

“I was, yeah.”

“So.” Bucky absolutely doesn’t examine his motives. “You can have food here.”

“Well, we were probably going to have sex,” Steve snaps. “You offering that too?” He thunks his head back on the couch and groans, his face flushing a brighter red. “Shit. Forget I said that.”

Bucky’s pretty sure he won’t be doing that any time soon. “Something delivered or do you want to go out?”

“I really just want to go home.”

“Okay. We can order something there. Stay here.” He gets up and heads back to his bedroom to get a shirt and his boots. When he comes back in, Steve hasn’t moved except to bury his face in his hands. “C’mon.”

“C’mon where. What are you doing?”

Bucky grabs a leather jacket off the hook by the door and puts it on. Then he looks at Steve, takes it off, and tosses it to him. Steve manages to catch it before it smacks him in the face. Barely. It earns Bucky another glare. “I’m taking you home. Put that on.”

“I’m taking the subway.”

Bucky exhales a long-suffering sigh. “Look, Rogers. You’ve had a shit night, and you’re upset. I have a vested interest in your well-being, so I’m taking you home. Don’t argue. Okay? For _once_?”

 

“Fine. Just don’t get used to it.” Steve’s shoulders sag, all the defiance gone from his posture. He stands and puts Bucky’s jacket on. It’s at least two sizes too big for him and droops off his shoulders. It hangs down to nearly mid-thigh, and Bucky can barely see the tips of his fingers poking out the end of the sleeves. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look adorable.”

His glare makes Bucky glad Steve’s not armed. “You’re the worst human alive.”

“Technically a cyborg, but thanks. I’ll be sure to tell all of the super villains they need to up their game.” He grabs another jacket and puts it on. “Let’s go.”

They take the elevator down to the Avengers-only garage, and Bucky goes to his bike, grabbing the spare helmet that’s been sitting with it since Steve’s disappearing act. He holds it out.

“You ridden on a bike before?”

“Yeah. College boyfriend. His wasn’t anything like this though.” Steve trails his finger over the seat, and Bucky can’t help watching. “She’s gorgeous.”

Bucky puts his own helmet on and straddles the bike. “Wait’ll you ride her.”

Steve’s face goes pink and he ducks his head. It’s probably just so he can find the foothold, but something tells Bucky it’s partly embarrassment. Or maybe something more, though that’s likely wishful thinking. Steve just keeps staring down, and Bucky reminds himself _not_ to think.

He grabs Bucky’s shoulder and steps on the foothold, swinging his leg over the seat. He slides forward slightly, settling against Bucky’s back, his ass. Steve makes a soft noise, and Bucky has to bite his lip, pretending to ignore it.

They’re about hallway to Steve’s when he leans in and starts talking, though the comms in the helmets let him come through clearly. “Doctor’s appointment. Dinner with Mark. His roommates were home, and he didn’t want to come to mine, so I headed home.”

Rather than respond, Bucky takes on hand off the handlebar and sets it on top of Steve’s where they’re resting around Bucky’s waist. He squeezes lightly and Steve does the same, tightening his grip. Bucky hums, the sound rumbling through him. He feels Steve shudder, and the hum turns into something deeper.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is low and soft and Bucky’s about ten seconds away from pulling over, grabbing him from behind him and yanking him onto his lap.

Instead, the asphalt in front of them explodes and Bucky swerves, the bike practically on its side before he can get both hands back on the bars and get them upright.

“Hold on!” Bucky yells unnecessarily. Steve’s got a death grip on him, though any other term would be better. Of course, that’s the only one that comes to mind.

Bucky weaves in and out of traffic, flipping a switch on the bike to set off an ear-piercing siren to get people out of the way. Steve winces at every gunshot, even the ones that don’t come close, pressing his forehead hard against Bucky’s back when another grenade hits next to them, jerking the bike to the right.

“Shit.” Bucky takes the corner too fast, back wheel skidding, then leaves a long black tire track on the pavement behind them as he guns the engine.

“FRIDAY!”

“Boss is already on his way. He’s got the tracker on your location, so he should be there any minute barring any combat.”

There’s another explosion and Bucky growls and whips the bike around. “Get off.”

“What?” Steve tightens his hold. “What?”

“I’ve got to get in there. Get off and hide.”

“But…”

“Steve, get off the goddamn bike!” Bucky snaps. When Steve doesn’t move, Bucky grabs his arm with his metal hand and hauls him off of it. “Hide.”

“I can help!”

“Fine. Get people off the streets,” Bucky takes off, tires squealing. He heads back toward the sound of the battle. Tony’s visible in the sky, and the others are there on the comms. Bucky doesn’t have much more than a knife in the way of weapons, so he’s not sure how much help he’s going to be until he slides to a stop right outside a pawn shop.

He strips off his jacket, metal arm gleaming. “Guns. Ammo. Now.” The guy hesitates, looking like he’s going to argue. Bucky reset the plates on his arm. He doesn’t bother raising his voice. “Now.”

An entire selection of guns are on the counter quickly, and Bucky loads them up, then loads up. It’s nothing like his usual, but it’s good enough. Better than nothing.

“Hey! I expect you to return those if you live!”

“Shouldn’t sell guns.” He gets on the bike again as quickly as possible and weaves his way toward the sound of battle. He hasn’t even slowed down when Clint calls his name.

He catches the shield when Clint throws it at him. He launches it immediately, knocking off one of the three guys on Natasha before he shoots him.

“Nice of you to join us,” Natasha drawls and Bucky flips her off as she flips one of her enemies.

“Can’t let you guys have all the fun.” Between the shield and the guns, he takes down a slew of the bad guys before Tony shouts “incoming!” and another fifteen guys parachute in. Tony takes out half of them before they even hit the ground.

“Thought you were better at _Space Invaders_ than that,” Natasha taunts.

“Leaving something for you. You were looking bored.”

Bucky sees movement behind him out of the corner of his eye and whips around, knife in his hand. He’s about to throw it when he recognizes Steve. “What the _fuck_ , Rogers!”

Steve doesn’t answer, but Bucky sees him hand someone small and red-headed to two panicked looking women.

“Barnes!” Clint shouts again.

Bucky doesn’t even look, shooting behind his back so he has more time to glare at Steve. A repulse hits near Bucky. “Head in the game,” Tony snaps, too loud in the comms. “We’ve got more incoming.”

Bucky turns back to the battle, ignoring Steve’s defiant glare. He can practically hear him telling Bucky not to tell him what to do. 

**

Bucky groans when something lands on his chest. He tries to lift his head to see what it is, groaning again and letting it fall back onto the pillow instead. He does manage to tilt his head slightly and open one eye. He groans again. “What happened.”

“You were hit by a truck.” Steve does something to Bucky’s chest, then Bucky hears the soft click of keys.

“Are you using me as a desk?”

“Maybe.”

“So a truck ran into me?”

“No. A grenade or something hit a truck, flipped it into the air, and, as far as I can tell, you tried to catch it.”

“I tried to catch a truck.” To be fair, it sounds like something he might do.

“No. You tried to catch a semi. Full of live chickens.”

“I what?” Bucky closes his eye, wondering if it might make this conversation make sense.

“You’ll be happy to know most of the chickens survived.”

“Yay?” He lifts his hand to his head, smacking himself in the face with a splint.

“Fortunately you were hit by the trailer, so it just knocked you out. The cab, however, slammed into a building, which promptly collapsed. On you.”

“Jesus.” Things are better with his eyes closed.

“Tony blasted it, but you still took a beating. Would you like a rundown?”

“No.”

“Fractured wrist, broken leg which Natasha reset, four broken ribs, concussion, and a piece of wood through your stomach.”

“Which you have your laptop on.”

“I have my laptop on your chest. And it pierced you closer to your groin than your stomach. Tony said it didn’t hit anything important, or even your dick. Also, you’re on, according to Tony, enough space drugs to choke a goat and then kill it six times over. And Clint now has pictures and video of you covered with very confused and very angry chickens.”

“I hate my teammates.”

“Given their behavior, glee, and the look of satisfaction Natasha got when she snapped your leg into place, I think it might be mutual.” Steve reaches up and rubs his fingers over what is, apparently, a huge goose egg – or chicken egg, Bucky supposes – on Bucky’s forehead.

“Ow.” He doesn’t actually feel any pain. Steve’s touch is light and Bucky’s not actually feeling much of anything. Tony does have him on the good drugs.

“I’ve rearranged your schedule, adjusted for your average healing time. We’ll take it day by day if things take longer, but I won’t be putting you back in the public eye until you’re definitely ready for public consumption. I’ll be fielding and postponing all interview requests – which you will get because you got hit by a truckful of chickens – and we’ll make light of it. It’ll make a good talk show joke. I’ve also let Ms. Prince know. Obviously.”

“Obviously?” Bucky tries to look at him again, attempting to turn his head before giving it up as a bad idea.”Why can’t I turn my damn head?"

“Neck brace.”

“Okay. Right. Why obviously?”

“Even if you’re not looking at marriage right away, you’re still dating.”

“No we aren’t.”

“Going out to dinner and going to events together constitutes dating. It’s the definition. You may not be in an actual relationship yet, but you _are_ dating.”

“We’re friends. Friendly.”

“If that’s what you want to call it, that’s fine. But, just so you know, to everyone else? You’re dating.”

“God, I don’t like you at all.”

“You had your chance to fire me. You’re stuck now.”

Bucky groans. “How long have I been here?”

“Three days. I’ve been watching your skin knit together. It’s kind of fascinating.”

“Creepy is the word you’re looking for.”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. We did issue a statement. People were worried you were dead.”

“Why?”

“Semi truck? Building?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Anyway. Tony’s asked me to stay here while you recover.”

“What?” A kind of panic wells in Bucky’s chest. “Why?”

“Well, he says he doesn’t trust you not to do something stupid.”

“I’ll be just fine in a couple – _Jesus Christ_.” Searing pain shoots through him. “What the fuck?”

Steve pulls his hand away from where he’d poked Bucky in the lower stomach area next to his wound. “So I’ll be staying with you, unless you’d like me to see if Ms. Prince is available.”

“See, I only thought I hated you before. Now I see that I was just disliking you. _Now_ I hate you.”

“What can I say? I have a gift.” Steve traces his fingers along the edge of the wound. Bucky wishes he could lift his head and watch. Instead he’s limited to a slice of Steve’s profile. “He said Natasha volunteered if you’re really opposed to me doing it.”

“No.” Bucky’s voice comes out weaker than he wants, and he closes his eyes to concentrate on Steve’s touch, which is still stroking over his skin. “I think I can survive you. Not sure I can say the same thing about Nat.”

Bucky shivers as Steve’s fingers slip away, and he can feel them trembling at the last of the touch. “Guess I should go get some stuff. Do you promise to stay here in bed while I go or do I have to have Tony knock you out again?”

“Depends on how long you’re planning to be gone.”

“Tony it is.”

“Hey.” Steve closes his laptop and picks it up as he stands. Bucky gets a chance to see his face in full for the first time. He frowns at new bruises and how tired Steve looks. “Did you get hurt?”

“I was a little too close when the building fell. Got hit with some debris from it. And then tried to help dig you out.”

“Jesus, Steve.” He exhales slowly. “You should go to bed.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. I may not heal as fast as you, but I’m well on my way. Get some sleep.”

Bucky grumbles but reaches out with his left arm, catching Steve’s wrist lightly. “Did I hurt you? When I took you off the bike?”

“No. Not really.” Steve smiles, and he can obviously tell Bucky knows he’s lying. To cut off any further argument, he uses his free hand to brush some hair off Bucky’s forehead. “Go to sleep or I will call Tony.”

“Mean.”

Steve laughs and slips his hand free of Bucky’s grip, backing away. “Wait’ll you have to live with me.”


End file.
